


shoot your dream future in the foot (not recommended)

by Anonymous



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Bill Denbrough Loves Mike Hanlon, Bill Denbrough is a Good Friend, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Established Relationship, Gen, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mike Hanlon Loves Bill Denbrough, Pep talks, Richie Tozier Has Self-Esteem Issues, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, and if he did happen how severe his impact was, just in case the title seems misleading it's all good i promise, thats pretty ambiguous because the clown does not matter, these tags make me happy, you get to choose whether pennywise happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23189951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: When Eddie asks Richie to marry him, Richie self-sabotages.Bill is not having any of it.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough & Richie Tozier, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 3
Kudos: 104
Collections: Anonymous





	shoot your dream future in the foot (not recommended)

**Author's Note:**

> am i missing tags? yes probably but it's 3am here be gentle with me uwu
> 
> also: i did not want to write bill's stutter noticeably for reasons, such as:  
> 1\. he's mostly over it at this point in the story, like sure it's still there but not as frequent, i don't think  
> 2\. long amounts of meta re: how writing accents and speech impediments differently implies that there is a standard, "correct" way of speaking english and that these differ from the norm. i'm so not about that, hah.  
> 3\. basically insert the stutter in ur head while you read it, to whatever extent you want to, i guess. 
> 
> anyway. enjoy!

Bill does not expect Richie Tozier at his door when he opens it, but there Richie is, soaked through by the rain to boot. He gives Bill a sheepish, too-wide grin.

“Could I spend the night here?” Richie asks. He looks at Bill and then looks away, seemingly nervous.

“Did something happen between you and Eddie?” Bill asks, moving aside and gesturing with his hands for Richie to enter.

Richie shrugs, and Bill doesn’t push it. He needs to get Richie dry clothes, first.

Bill leaves Richie in the living room, walking to his closet. There’s nothing he owns that will fit Richie, but there’s a lot of clothes that belong to Mike in there that should do.

Bill grabs the clothes and a towel, returns to give them to Richie, who’s dripping a puddle into the carpet.

“Thanks, Big Bill,” Richie says, softly. Then, as if they’re still kids, without an ounce of modesty or embarassment, he begins to pull his clothes off.

 _Never change, Trashmouth,_ Bill thinks, but he’s still worried about what’s causing Richie to be here at this time. He knows something’s up.

Bill enters the kitchen, makes them both coffee as fast as he can. When he gets back, Richie’s sitting on the sofa, staring into the distance. Mike’s clothes hang off him loosely, making him look small for once. His subdued expression does not help matters.

“Okay, enough silence,” Bill commands. “Not a good look on you, Rich. What’s wrong?”

Richie smiles drily. “Eds asked me to marry him today.”

Bill gasps, genuinely excited for two of his best friends. “Congratulations, that’s such good news!” he says, but then he looks at the way Richie’s sitting, almost sulkily. “Wait, hold on. Trashmouth, what did you do?”

“I said no,” Richie says bitterly. “And then I ran out of our house, into the rain, and here I am now.” He does a hand gesture that Bill thinks could be jazz hands but isn’t very sure about. “Voila, baby,” Richie says, but it falls flat.

Bill blinks, incredulously. He doesn’t think the incredulity will help Richie, though. He already looks miserable enough as is. Bill doesn’t want to add to that.

“Let’s talk about this,” Bill says. He doesn’t frame it as a question.

“What’s there to talk about,” Richie says. His inflection doesn’t allow for that to be a question either.

“You’re clearly in love with Eddie,” Bill says. “The past few months have been the happiest I’ve ever seen you. You got drunk that other day and told me and Bev that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. Now, apparently, you’ve been informed that he shares this sentiment. Instead of rejoicing and making you both very happy, you do what? Shoot your dream future in the foot?”

“Whoa, Denbrough,” Richie says. “Didn’t stutter even once. And that’s an impressive speech. Sounded like Stan.”

“Can you _please_ take this seriously,” Bill says, half-frustrated, half-pleading, fully gentle. It’s a tone that he used to use with Georgie a lot, back in the day. “I can’t help you if you don’t let me.”

“Who says I want you to help me?” Richie asks.

“You did, technically, the moment you showed up here,” Bill says. “Rich, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but could you tell me what you need right now?”

Richie’s silent for a minute, and then he looks at Bill, something lost in his eyes.

“I don’t know how to deal with it,” he admits softly.

“The fact that Eddie loves you?” Bill asks.

“Nah, he has bad taste, established,” Richie says, the delivery perfect. Bill does not laugh. He gives Richie an unimpressed look.

“The fact that he wants to make that sort of commitment to _me,_ ” Richie says, a note of disbelief in his voice. “That’s what I don’t understand.” He gestures to himself with both his hands, with the same sort of disgust that someone would use while pointing to a particularly ruined good at a garage sale, as if to say, _get a load of this!_

Bill winces, and then gently shifts, sitting close enough to Richie that they’re pressed against each other. Richie’s a lot taller and broader built than him, but it’s easy for Bill to wrap his arms around Richie and cautiously cradle him against his chest all the same.

“You have to understand that the Richie that Eddie sees is not the Richie you see,” Bill says, softly. “I know exactly how you feel. Do you know how I felt, as a child, when all of you treated me as the leader, gave me authority? I was just a kid with a stutter. I didn’t know _shit_. But that’s not what you all saw when you looked at me.”

Richie sighs, and Bill remembers, once again, hitting Richie in the face. He’d apologized later, after that summer, but he gets struck with flashes of guilt even now. Bill shifts, presses a kiss on the top of Richie’s head.

“Who are you, Beverly Marsh?” Richie asks, his voice muffled because of how he’s pressing his face against Bill.

“Bev doesn’t have the monopoly on platonic top-of-the-head kisses,” Bill says, and it’s such an absurd sentence. Clearly, Richie thinks so too, because he giggles.

They’re both silent for a minute, and then Richie says, softly, “I just feel like I’m lying to him, y’know? That he’s seeing something in me that isn’t really there. I may have been a decent best friend to him, or an okay boyfriend. A good husband, though? Me?” he exhales. “I’m afraid, Bill.”

“See, that’s the thing,” Bill says. “You haven’t deceived him, or whatever. Forgive me if I’m overstepping with this, but you’ve always taken care of Eddie, ever since we were kids. You’ve always looked out for him, been aware of his needs, offered solutions to his problems, made him felt seen and cherished and understood. The person Eddie sees in you is a person who’s really there, and if you were kinder to yourself, you would know that, Richie.”

Richie makes a noise under his breath.

“You know I’ve been through this too, right? This exact thing,” Bill says. “Growing up liking men, with all the Derry trauma, well. It’s rough, and I know what you’re going through. It’s hard to imagine a happy ending with the man you love. I know that. But it’s possible. It is so possible, and you deserve it.”

‘Wow,” Richie says, wonderingly. “I must look really pathetic for you to whip out a pep talk of this scale.”

“I’m one of your best friends,” Bill says, gently. “I have no ulterior motives in wanting you to be happy, Rich. But also, yeah. You need to talk to Eddie. I’m willing to bet good money that he’s having a similar conversation with someone right now. About not being good enough for you.”

“No,” Richie says, but Bill isn’t sure who he’s trying to convince. They both know how Eddie can get sometimes, with his own self-worth and self-image. Bill wishes there was a way to make Sonia Kaspbrak pay for everything she’d done to her son.

“Eddie knows he’s out of my league,” Richie says, but he sounds uncertain.

“Eddie is _not_ out of your league,” Bill says, exasperated. “We’re the Losers Club, Richie. We’re all in the same league. That’s what being a loser _means._ ”

“Do you really think he’s second guessing himself right now?” Richie asks, and he looks almost guilty.

“Definitely,” Bill says. “He proposed to someone who means the world to him, and they said no and ran out in the rain. He’s certainly not feeling too good right now.”

“See, this is what I mean,” Richie says, sounding dejected. “Eddie could do so much better than me.”

“Yes, sure, but he doesn’t want to,” Bill says. “He’s actively choosing you. But that’s not the issue here. You need to talk to him, to tell him what you’re feeling right now. You don’t need to get engaged to him immediately, Rich, if you need more time he’ll understand. But saying no and running away does nobody any favours. He might think you’ve broken up with him or something.”

Richie hums. The look on his face tells Bill that he’s thinking about it.

There’s a knock on the door. Bill assumes it’s Mike, but isn’t sure. His phone’s out of charge at the moment, but this is around the time that Mike gets home.

“I’ve got to get that,” Bill says apologetically to Richie, leaving him there and going to open the door.

He’s only half right. It’s Mike, but Mike isn’t there alone. Leaning against him, eyes red and runny, is none other than Eddie Kaspbrak, holding an umbrella that Bill suspects belongs to Richie given the bizarre colour and patterns on it.

“Hope you don’t mind me bringing Eddie home,” Mike says, softly. “He needed a place to stay, to clear his head a little, just for a bit.”

“Yeah, about that,” Bill says, glancing behind him at the living room. “We might have a problem.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, and then walks right in, not even taking his boots off. Bill spins around to take in the scene as Eddie stomps into the living room, walks angrily up to Richie, and then just stops.

Mike closes the door and then moves a little closer, pressing against Bill, resting his chin on his boyfriend’s head.

“This is not good,” he says silently.

“I know,” Bill says, equally silently.

Bill’s expecting Eddie to yell, or to raise his voice at the very least. Instead, Eddie just takes one look at Richie, at the dejected way he’s staring at the carpet, and says, “Is the idea of being married to me _that_ despicable, Richie?”

It lacks all the bite that Bill associates with Eddie. He’s not upset, or even angry; he’s just hurt.

Richie splutters. He looks up at Eddie, horrified.

“Eddie, what the fuck?” he asks. Impossibly gently, he reaches out for Eddie’s hands, holds them. “Of course not, darling, I’m so sorry I made you think that.”

“Richie Tozier just used endearments sincerely,” Mike murmurs to Bill. “Let’s go to another room in this house before they start making out.”

Bill, confident in the knowledge that Richie and Eddie are going to patch everything up, hums in agreement and lets Mike lead him to the kitchen, where he begins to make hot chocolate.

Bill helps him without his asking. Being in the kitchen with Mike is one of his favourite things to do. They usually establish a rhythm of sorts, reaching out for things and handing them to each other without needing to verbally ask. It’s a lot more intimate than cooking had ever been with Audra, Bill thinks. It feels like he and Mike occupy the same space.

He doesn’t need to ask, but he says it anyway, as he hands Mike the cocoa powder.

“For Eddie?”

Mike nods. “He really seemed to need it earlier. Now, I’m not so sure.”

They’re both making four glasses already, so Bill doesn’t need to tell Mike, but he tells Mike anyway, “I think all four of us need one, to be honest.”

“Oh, certainly,” Mike says. “Richie came to you directly?”

Bill nods.

“Eddie came to me,” Mike says.

They both look at each other for a minute, neither asking any questions. Bill’s been there for Eddie when he’s felt insecure, and Richie’s gotten drunk with Mike on more than one occasion and told the poor man more than he would’ve even asked about things he was usually secretive about.

“It’s something about you,” Bill had told him, later, once Richie was gone. “That makes people feel safe. That makes them tell you things.”

Given all this, they both can imagine the other side of the conversation. Bill knows, intuitively, what Mike and Eddie would’ve discussed, and he knows that Mike knows what went on between him and Richie as well.

“They’re going to get engaged in our living room, aren’t they,” Mike says eventually.

“As long as they don’t have sex on the sofa, I think I can live with that,” Bill says.

They share a smile of a job well done. Once Richie and Eddie are gone, they will do a lot more than smile at each other. But right now, it’s all Bill can really do to look at Mike, and think, with a gentle sense of awe, _you look at me and see something you like. You looked at me and decided that you wanted to stay with me._

He knows Richie’s thinking the same thing, and that leads him to think of marrying Mike Hanlon one day. He smiles, picks up two mugs of hot chocolate. Following his lead, Mike picks up the remaining two cups. They enter the living room where, as expected, Richie and Eddie have made up, and Eddie’s sitting on Richie’s lap, practically straddling him. Both of them have a new collection of hickeys, and are considerably pinker than they were a few minutes ago.

“All’s well that ends well, hm?” Bill asks.

“Not that you’d know that, your endings suck,” Eddie says sweetly.

Richie laughs a loud and booming laugh, and Mike chuckles almost guiltily, but it’s fine.

Bill can’t hold back his smile, either.

**Author's Note:**

> i am going to do what the kids call Tune In For The Night (TM)  
> g'nniteeee


End file.
